When You Finally Realize You’re Perfect, You Get to Play

I had a conversation with a client the other day, who’s now wanting to get to the point where she can begin to feel like being here on this planet, in a physical human body, is totally ‘worth it.‘ 

In the session, she asked me, When will it get better, this human thing?  When does it all start to be worth it?” 

I felt her deep in my heart, for I’ve heard this a lot from people over the years– clients, friends, and strangers.  Many people today feel like they’re just bumping around in this lifetime, not squeezing the delicious juice out of this human experience, and feeling like they’d be much better off if they could get it all over with quickly, and go back to the spiritual/non-physical dimension. 

So, I answered her with compassion, and said, “It all gets better once you finally realize you’re already perfect.  Until then, you don’t get to play.” 

There is a moral code to having a delicious life in this Universe, and it is simply this:  “Once you realize you’re already perfect, life begins to prove it to you.”  

For most of us, growing up in the cultures, family structures, and societies we did, we were saturated with external messages and narratives that said something about us is not “enough,” and that we’re not already whole, lovable, complete or deserving, so somehow, we must fix or better or improve ourselves until we become such.  

This messaging/narrative is in our schools, in our churches, on the TV, in our movies, and even at home at the dinner table.  In a world that is bent on telling you that you’re not enough or whole, it’s a very radical and rebellious act to think otherwise. 

How much loved you are. How powerful you are. How much enough you are. How worthy you are. How beautiful you are. How smart and wise you are. How gifted you are. How much you deserve to own whatever space you occupy. How Divine you are. How God you are

Until you can own your perfection, the absolute magnificence, pleasure, and bliss of life stays hidden to you.  But once you grasp it, grab hold to it and sew it into your clothes like a badge, “I’m already perfect,” get ready, because the Divine will move the very molecules of the Universe to prove it to you.  The sex gets better, the money gets better, the success gets better, the relationships get better, the joy gets better, LIFE gets better and your reality becomes centered on pleasure, and ease, and fun.  

If there was a “secret” to this thing called “Life” I would definitely say it’s to remember your perfection.  Then I’d write it on billions of pieces of paper in bold, powerful ink, in every human language, and hire the biggest plane possible, and fly it across the planet scattering those pieces of paper across the sky in every continent until they reached the hands of every living being.  It would no longer be a secret then. 

But, I don’t have to.  Your soul is not hiding it from you.  It’s shouting it to you everyday.  To us everyday.  To me everyday.  We’ve just got to make a bigger commitment to finally listen. 

Embrace your perfection, so you can finally start to play.
And live, deliciously well.

Like you deserve.

“I am already perfect.  

Not because everything is right with me, 

but because nothing is wrong with me.” 

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Approaching What I Eat from Ease

When I first started my journey of healing from AIDS and kidney failure, I thought the only way I could heal was to monitor what I was eating very closely, you know, the “You are what you eat narrative.”

I followed what all the wellness and healing ‘experts’ said…

"Eat only organic..."
"You must be a vegan..."
"Meat is poison..."
"Eat greens, or die..."
"Only alkaline will heal you..."

And I was very militant about it.  And I was seeing small progress in the state of my health.  But the problem was, every week there was a new narrative, a new study claiming some food was bad for you while another was better, and my diet was constantly changing because of it.

One week I could eat grains, but the next week I’d discover grains were bad for your immune system.  I’d be vegan for a few weeks/months, just to hear from the experts that while, ‘yes, vegan is good, but unless you’re eating raw food vegan, it wasn’t doing much good,‘ or then I’d hear, “don’t just eat your greens, juice them; don’t just juice your greens but make sure you’re not eating hybrid greens such as broccoli that don’t fit with natures natural order for your race; it’s not enough to eat organic, you must eat organic AND local or else you’re not getting enough nutrients in the food; and on and on and on.  

Ad nauseum.

Pretty soon, my diet had narrowed and whittled down to hardly anything I felt safe enough to eat to heal, and my entire approach to, and relationship with, food became something stressful, and felt like a complete chore.  

Which was the entire opposite of how I used to feel about food:  I USED TO LOVE IT.   But my fear of being sick had lead me straight into creating another fear for myself:  the fear of eating.  

One night I had a very profound ‘aha’:  I had brought the very energy that caused the diseases in the first place into my journey towards wellness: fear

I had become afraid that unless I ate the EXACT “right” thing, I wouldn’t heal.   

More specifically, I had become afraid that if I didn’t eat the right things, I didn’t deserve to heal.

I knew that fear, in any form, prevented me from healing. That it literally kept my body in fight-or-flight mode, and my immune system suppressed because of it. And I if I was going to truly heal, that I was going to have to release the fears from my mind, so that it could be release from my body.

So I made a decision to shift.  Instead of focusing so hard on what I needed to eat to heal, and being so strict about my diet, I decided to give myself a break.  To be more compassionate with myself around my eating habit.  I let myself eat more of what I loved, relaxed my beliefs around what I believed was “healthy” to eat and what was not, and changed my thinking around my body.  

Instead of thinking my body was this weak vessel that could be thrown off track by the slightest variance in organic or not, local or not, meat or vegetable, I began to view it as a strong, vibrant, divine vessel that was my partner in this life, and could gain the nutrients it needed to thrive and be well from whatever I was currently enjoying on my plate.  

My body stopped being a weak victim in my mind; and became a powerful creator and vessel of wellness, instead.  

This was a huge shift for me in my emotional state: I no longer felt afraid of my food. 

And that’s when the miraculous transformations began to happen.

First, I began to enjoy food again.  I began to truly relish eating and enjoying my meals.  Which lead to me enjoying more of my life again.  I was more at ease in my life, had more joy in it, felt more present in it.  And then, almost out of nowhere, the state of my health began to make dramatic positive leaps.  My test results began to improve, my t-cell count increased higher than doctors had ever seen before in that time-frame, my kidneys began to recover and function better.

It’s as if my body had been waiting all this time, not for the ‘right’ food to heal itself, but for the ‘right’ energy to heal itself.  The energy of trust and relaxation.  The energy of peace and joy.

Although I had been eating a strict alkaline vegan, plant-based diet (the one all the experts had told me to eat to heal) it wasn’t working for me.  And that’s because what we really need to eat to heal ourselves and be well is joy.  Is greater compassion for ourselves.  Is less fear, less stress, and less deprivation, and more trust in the wisdom and power of our bodies.

More gentleness.

More relaxation.

More self-love.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying here that food can’t help you get or stay well.  I believe that food definitely can contribute to better health.  But what I am saying is that once our relationship to our food tips the balance from enjoyment, relaxation, and fulfillment to fear, stress and deprivation, we are not helping our healing or wellness take place.  In fact, we are adding to the energy/vibration in which caused the dis-ease in the first place: fear.

The clue is in the name:  dis-ease.

Am I approaching my relationship with food in the energy of ease or not?  Am I being compassionate or judgmental with food?  Compassionate or judgmental with my body?  Trusting or fearful?  Enjoying or depressed?  Relaxed or stressed?

It’s all about the energy in which I approach it. For my food, and for everything else in my life.

More ease. 

More love. 

More happy plates.

…and healthy bodies.

❤️ , Jerome

Last 15 Posts


I Ain’t Black…At Least, Not How You Think I Am

I have never liked the nomenclature “black.”  To be honest, it grates against something within me to use it, to identify myself by it. 

I have always felt it was a definition meant to “other,” to “lesser than,” to “not enough” – me, and all the peoples who fall under that definition.

“Jerome is a black man” poisons me to hear, sometimes.  Although I so much love that which has come up in the world under that title (for me, and the culture and people that raised me under that title), I have always felt in my cells the initial intentions behind why people who look like me were called that, and why people who don’t, weren’t.  “Black” and “White“: as different from each other as could be, two opposite ends of the spectrum, two different values and functions, two living beings as separate from each other, as night and day.  

But no. Not for me, anyway.

I live in both night and day. I bring both light and darkness, and it is blindingly beautiful that I do so.  But I ain’t “black“…not by this current definition anyway.  

I am of African ancestry, which I love. I am of African ancestryed people’s who live in America’s culture, which I love. I am of darker skin color, the same I share with those who are also African ancestryed, and the culture and experience which shapes that in America, which I also love.  
But I ain’t black.  Not the one that’s othered than white, anyway.  
You can’t push me into a margin and not care anymore what happens in that margin because you’re living on the page where all things white belong, or you’re living in the margin with me, where you believe all things black belong. 

No Loves, my life is words and songs, which have always painted the pages, made them have meaning, made people want to read them.  And even further still, my life is me, and I am the entirety of the page, and I am the tree in which the page was crafted from, too.

I am the very cosmos wearing a t-shirt and jeans, eating collard greens, and vegan mac and cheese. 

I ain’t black.  
Not that definition anyway.  

Dark, yes.  African ancestryed, yes.  Wide-nosed, thick-lipped, glistening skinned, rhythmic souled, earthly grounded, and cosmically connected, yes.  

But Othered?  No. Less than?  No. Separate?  No. Not enough?  No.

Plus, last time I looked in the mirror (especially these days), my skin is chocolate-colored.  Mocha. Rich.  Beautiful.  I’m sure there have been some people in my past who would also say it’s delicious, too, cause it tasted that way.  But what it ain’t is this popular definition of black.  Though, don’t get me wrong, sometimes I still use it, and believe it has a place in the dictionary, because, you know, people know what I mean when I say it.  But I don’t identify with it fully.

Yes, I will keep my ancestry, my culture, my family, my “peeps”, and I will gratefully do so, because my God it’s fucking glorious, and oh so unendingly beautiful.  But I will also burn your margins, and your definitions, and your boxes, and your nomenclature, at the same time.  
Not because I hate you, but because I love me.  

And part of that love is to stop calling myself by any name that was offered me that muddies my own reflection when I look in the mirror.  If nothing else, I want to see me clearly.  Every time I look upon myself, I want to see the unfiltered wholeness and worthiness that’s really there.

I need that.  Cause that’s beautiful.  That’s true.  Deep ass, chocolatey-ass, African-ancestryed-ass, beautiful truth.

Black may be beautiful.  But it will never let you see all the beautiful of me.  All the beautiful of we that are called black.

And you need that. You need to see all the beautiful that we are.
Trust me, you need that.

Much ❤️, Jerome

Last 15 Posts


A Meditation to Release Fear

With all that’s going on in the world currently around Corona, there is a lot of fear and worry in our personal and collective energy systems. And getting caught up in this fear can negatively effect the strength of our immune systems, and ultimately make us sick, if held for too long. So to recenter us back in wellbeing, I wanted to lead you through a guided meditation to help release fear from your energy field, and recenter your energy back in wellbeing. This meditation is both healing and transformative yourself, and for the planet. Try it, and see if you don’t feel better by the end.

FYI: I got the Tibetan singing bowl I’m using in this meditation from Shanti Bowl. Check them out if you’d like to purchase one for yourself. I love the audible vibration it emits. ❤️

Last 15 Posts


My New Year of Life Guided by Rest and Pleasure

Earlier this month I turned 41, and I’ve been thinking a lot about what this new year of life needs from me in order to live a more well + delicious life.  One that is truly healthy for my body + energy, one that tastes really good to my senses to be within.  

Because more than anything, this is the kind of life I want for myself: a well + delicious one. 

It is the only type of life I want for myself.

And what I’ve been feeling in my gut is that what my life most wants from me this year to become more well + delicious is a deeper dive into rest and pleasure. 

Before my healing journey, I was never too successful at experiencing either.   I wasn’t good at getting a lot of rest, and I wasn’t good at getting a lot of pleasure, either.  I didn’t even know that both were truly possible, to be honest, nor what they would even look like if they were.  

This idea that rest and pleasure are foundations on which we can build our lives, on which we can build our dreams, that they can be our support systems to fall back on in times of success and in times of failure was a revelation to me.   The idea that my life can feel good and easy, that it can be immensely delightful, and not also burn out my nervous system.  That it can be based on, and grounded in, just feeling good.  Wow.  A revolution.

If there is one thing that my healing journey has taught me it is this:  “That our lives are not supposed to prisons; they are supposed to be sanctuaries.” 

That our lives are not supposed to be things that we are trying hard to run away from, but things we are supposed to be find more and more ways to dive deeper into.  To find solace in.  To get joy, and safety, and wellness from.  And in my heart, I know rest and pleasure are big parts of that sanctuary.  That they are the very alters in which that sanctuary builds itself around, the ones we are meant to make sacred pilgrimage to and lay our burdens as offerings before, so that we may be deeply blessed.

Rest and pleasure are home.

I am being called to experience them in a deeper way now.  Not just to have them in the margins of my life, but to realize that the only place they belong is as the whole page.  That I must write the story of my life upon them.  That I must write the story of my life with them.  They are the page, and the pen.  

I learned from my master teachers, AIDS and kidney failure, that pleasure and rest are medicines + needs.  Like good food and water, I need them in regular daily doses to be healthy and function at my best.

And the two types of pleasure I’m being called most to right now are writing + sex.    I get such delight from them both.  I feel so alive when I’m writing. The act of sharing what’s in my heart and mind through writing brings me such a deep amount of joy that it’s hard to describe in words.  But the closest I can come to it is:  writing makes me feel like I’m feeding my soul something delicious/nutritious.  And I also feel that way when I’m having sex.  I feel alive, connected, and like I’m feeding my soul something that it enjoys, and helps it grow.  

And to be honest, I haven’t been doing enough of either: writing, or sex. And being further honest, I haven’t been doing one of those at all (I’ll leave it to you to figure out which one).  

Rest, sex and writing have been calling me deep. 
Almost like I’m being asked to drown my whole life in their waters.  

So this new year of my being is going to be saturated with them. Going to be guided by them. Going to be taught by them.

I’m looking forward to what I may learn from them.  How I heal from them. What I become because of them.

What I already know is that I’ll be happier + healthier. 

And that alone is delicious enough.

Last 15 Posts


The Top 3 Thought Viruses That Make Us Sick

Last week, I saw a video by Anita Moorjani where she mentioned the term: “thought virus.” And immediately, I deeply resonated with the term, and recognized the principle as it related to my own healing journey from AIDS and kidney failure, and the healing work I’ve done with my clients. So much so, I was inspired to do this video in order to go a bit more in depth about what thought viruses actually are, and why they are so detrimental the the health of our bodies, and the wellbeing of our lives. I also share what the purpose of our life experience is from the soul’s perspective, why not feeling “enough” is so dangerous, and how the law of attraction manifests our reality. Enjoy!

Last 15 Posts